


And Fun Was Had By All.

by SimplerUser



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplerUser/pseuds/SimplerUser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pseudo-Victorian era au with much kissing and snark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Fun Was Had By All.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsidianlullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianlullaby/gifts).



“Finished the book?” You’ve come to discover Vriska’s voice is grating in the morning. It’s a special highlight of how radiantly frustrating one troll can be. Her arms are wrapped around your waist and her breath is tickling your shoulder for heaven’s sake.  
  
You take your time in replying. You ink the end of your sentence and start another while she works herself up to making a proper go at an insult. Just as she inhales to begin her complaints you cut in, “It’s a book, I hardly think I can be expected to pen the entire work within days-” three weeks “-of coming to the conclusion I will do so. The intent of my novel is not for it to be a forgettable short story rattled off onto newsprint and then used to line the fireplace. Before you start you could not do so with more efficiency. You would fall all over yourself to make it exciting when you could no more punch a bear than fly to the moons.” There. That should cover most of what she was going to interrupt with.  
  
She pulls you down to the side and, for the hundredth - millionth time, you consider a nicer life where she keeps her spindly fingers out of quadrants that haven’t been arranged. It strikes you as awfully dull. Her hand finds its way onto your breast and you pick it off before the inevitable squeeze. She wriggles upright and huffs like a child, “I could fly to the moons _and_ take on a bear; I’d be back like fucking lightning.”  
  
Instead of arguing this particular whimsy (Vriska might be able to take a bear and those invested in her well being would tut to see you encouraging her and you are, of course, all about keeping that bunch happy) you twist and kiss her properly - how you’re supposed to kiss. Teeth and force, like you imagine oysters go about it - shells getting in the way and stabbing the oyster equivalent of an eye. You will reluctantly concede that you regret the decision to include a seadweller in your novel; aquatic relations of any kind had never been more than an idle thought about where the royal buckets are filled before you made the choice.  
  
Vriska looks decidedly unimpressed and pulls away with a flick of her finger smacking between your eyes. Perhaps you’re not the most focused when you keep to one quadrant either. She’s already busy swinging her legs out of bed.  
  
She dresses while you alternate between watching her dress and continuing writing. She does put on a nice show, it’s too tedious to pretend your attention is firmly on your writing. Far more preferable to do what you want to. You lay your pen down and begin commentary, you contemplate and select a place to start. "As is typical for a highblood troll, Vriska Serket refrains from summoning the plethora of servants just falling over themselves to assist in keeping her bosom under cover.” She flips you a trollian finger and you wiggle your fingers merrily in return. “But we can see as she dons the first of many layers that will get snickers when she flounces down the streets there is no need to keep it under cover.” She’s wriggling into her bodice now, ruining the lacing of course, it was barely rumpled before she laid a hand on it now it’s as tangled as her hair. With a weary sigh you leaver yourself out of bed. “The bosom of Vriska Serket has been missing for many perigees.” Hooking your fingers into the cord on Vriska’s back you pull and she squawks.  
  
“Fucking watch it! There are important organs in there.” Vriska says, swatting at you.  
  
You give her a look and place your head on her shoulder. She’s glaring, her most precious of expressions. “Such as? I have been assured many times that you do not have” you yank sharply, “a pusher.”  
  
She spins around and her skirts slap your legs, you should possibly consider the mundane task of getting yourself clothed to be a delightful matching couple, fabric and everything. She drapes her arms over your shoulders and you reach behind her again, you’ve gotten used to sorting this out by touch and it’s a simple matter to complete the job. Vriska yelps again and replies, “I’ve got a pusher. I've actually got everything you could ever want and you know it! I’ve got all the things you want -” All of them, you think “- aaaaaaaall of them.” There we go; your kismesis is the most predictable creature.  
  
“I’m not so certain you do,” you place a hand on her heart. Or a little lower than her heart. You squeeze and she kisses you, fast and forceful. You oblige her intentions, parting your lips and slipping your tongue into her mouth. You prick the end of it on her fangs, reveling in the bitter taste it creates. When you were little you always wanted sharp teeth like the trolls, you still harbor some fondness for the image of tearing out throats with your teeth even now you know there are more efficient ways to end lives.  
  
Vriska cups your breast and squeezes. You make a soft noise in response, Vriska needs positive feedback. Not positive enough though, she backs away and you grumble. Maturity is your bread and butter.  
  
She gives you a piece of pity and kisses you before turning back and pulling on the last of today’s clothing explosion. “I’ve got things to do, Lalonde!” She tugs on her boots, crimson, expensive as fine silk and dirty as Vriska’s taste in literature. The servants stopped trying to clean them when Vriska felt the need to show off her knives; you feel they should be relieved at not having to deal with the encrusted dirt. “Can’t wait for you when things are happening all over this place that need me to make them better.” If the place with things happening is standing by the end of the day you’ll have to reevaluate Vriska. Having a kismesis who didn’t tear anywhere she entered to shreds would be a total embarrassment; heavens know how you would live it down.  
  
While you were musing she’s been continuing on about whatever it is she is going to explode, not a passing care for you not taking in a word. “Want to come with?” She finishes.  
  
Hold on.  
  
“I have a book to write,” you say, clipped and forced. She never asks you to join her – not outright. You have an arrangement.  
  
She rolls her eyes. “It can wait! I want you to meet her.”  
  
And a second round of clutching at a conversation that isn’t holding at all. “Who?” You’re starting to worry about losing writing time and she can’t possibly imagine that you were paying attention to her ramblings.  
  
Seems she did. That’s a hell of a glare. “Kanaya. You’re always complaining about how none of your clothes fit in, too human and stuffy and blah fucking blah!” You flush a rose tint, Vriska of all people noticing that... You hadn’t thought it was obvious. However, Vriska, flamboyant and blue head to - not toe - just above those red boots, isn’t someone to listen to on the matter of fashion. And knowing Vriska she will trap you into scandalousness in one form if not another. “She’s got a shop in the city. Brave the chance of getting some fresh air. Take a risk for once! If you die I’ll take full responsibility.”  
  
You inadvertently scrunch your mouth in the way you do when annoyed, it’s not your best look and you smooth it out as soon as you realize to snap, “I am hardly bound to this room. Writing a novel has not, in fact, stripped me of all previous experiences.”  
  
“Could have fooled me! Have you actually been outside since you started?”  
  
You pause. It’s actually possible you have remained in here that entire time. Fuck. “I remember the outside world just fine, Vriska.” You gather your writing things and take them to your desk.  
  
“Which means no. Nice lying, top class, you’ll get a nod from her fishiness herself if you keep that up.” She grabs your hands to tug you towards the door, you slap her away. Not a chance you’re following her with no notice. If you’re going to go with her there has to be at least a semblance of a plan. Seeing her friend doesn’t qualify. The plan also has to not involve explosions. Or fire. Or death. “Fine!” she says and you start to get a bad feeling. “I’ll leave you in here to stew. You’re going to get so white you’ll pass for a rainbow drinker.” You flinch but settle in front of your journal again. You’ve been contemplating changing your main character into a rainbow drinker; Vriska laughed herself sick when you mentioned it.  
  
She gave up far too easily, but if she’s backing off then your paranoia can wait until you have another ten pages penned. “Have fun blowing things up, darling. Do try not to do lasting damage.” She kisses you on the cheek and prances out the door. You apologize satirically to her in your head. ‘Swagger’ is the term she prefers.  


 

***

  
The day is overcast, thank fuck. Your umbrella is a piece of shit and you hate using it anyway, you’d much prefer to use the coats the lowbloods use but every time you steal Terezi’s Rose gives it to someone who has more of a need than she considers you possess. Fuck her; you need them for looking great in the daylight. Instead of shading you and making you look like a picnic table.  
  
More trolls than usual out and about today, lower blooded too from the looks of it. If something’s up you haven’t a notion what it is. You also don’t care.  
  
A flood of noise hits you as you fold up your umbrella and enter the bar; human bar so tidier than most. Your gear catches the eye of the patrons; bland dull browns are nothing when compared to your radiant greatness. They settle as you take a spot opposite Terezi and Kanaya. They’re too busy talking (snarking) to even heed to your arrival. Rude.  
  
You ding Kanaya on the horn with your umbrella and grin in her face when she spins to snarl at you. Someone’s in a great mood today. Probably Terezi’s fault. Terezi actually looks put out. A pitcher of something you didn’t order but will absolutely drink thunks down on the table - courtesy of the owner no doubt.  
  
“I don’t detect the flowery musk of a petal with you.” says Terezi.  
  
You glare, she doesn’t notice. Same as ever. “She decided that she wouldn’t drag down the company and stayed to pollute her own life with more shitty writing.” You sip at your mug of whatever, it’s nice enough, meaning it’s wet and doesn’t seem to be poisoned.  
  
Kanaya looks more perturbed though. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that meeting her has been delayed yet further, it’s becoming humorous. How many more ways do you think she can avoid appearing in a room with me. Perhaps she is going to be carried off by an albatross, have to attend a forgotten lover’s funeral, lose all her clothes in a whirlwind. One might think it’s about time you asked her to see me.” Fuck she does go on.  
  
“I did! I said ‘hey come and meet Kanaya you’d get on and maybe not be a weird human who can only hold down a kismesis.’” You sip your drink. “She didn’t listen.” The tightness in Kanaya’s lips is an excellent reward for your comment.  
  
“Miss Lalonde’s quadrants are the last thing on my mind.” You don’t buy it. Kanaya is practically green with embarrassment. Scum on sopor green. You snicker.  
  
“Lying in my presence is a punishable offence, twenty drubbings to Miss Maryam for presenting falsehoods to the court!” Terezi says and tries to tug your umbrella out of your hand.  
You pull it back and hold it out of reach. You say to her, “Use your cane, that’s what it’s there for.” Her reply is to make another snatch, so fucking rude.  
  
“Even though I well know that my opinion when it comes to the two of you is irrelevant I feel the need to object to any drubbing being executed on or around my person. However, I am aware that consideration is unlikely to be given at any point. Please excuse me while I,” she pauses while you and Terezi wrestle over the umbrella. You’re listening, kind of. It’s the same old thing, you don’t give a fuck. You, in fact, give negative fucks. Hundreds and hundreds less than zero. “Er, while I excuse myself, I think I should get to work on an order before your scuffle escalates.”  
  
Terezi lets go of your umbrella. You fall off your chair and she bounces lightly onto your place in the moment it takes you to pick yourself up. “Oh, fuck you.” Kanaya is trying to follow through with her plan to make an exit, you put a boot on the edge of her skirt and her eye twitches. But she stops getting up.  
  
“Vriska.” says Kanaya.  
  
You smile and plop down onto Terezi’s lap as you reply, “Kanaya?” and drag out her name while you put your feet up on her lap.  
  
“I have seen your boots before. On many occasions, in fact. They have made themselves notable to me frequently and I don’t actually need a closer inspection of their grime.” Terezi, Kanaya and you are gaining eyes from the other patrons, it makes you grin harder. She continues, “I am busy, Vriska. It would be useful not to be trapped underneath you for the remainder of my free time.” you slide down on Terezi’s lap and make yourself more comfortable, legs on Kanaya rather than feet. Terezi wraps her arms around you and rests her head on your shoulder, like she actually has to look at people to make conversation.  
  
“Court finds you to be a liar once again, Miss Cucumbermint! You finished all your orders yesterday for the twilight parade.” So that’s what the trolls were preparing for. You might make an appearance, having both humans and trolls staring at you while you go about completely normal business is an appealing idea. “You are totally unoccupied when it comes to the entire day.” Of course Terezi would know exactly what Kanaya has to do. Those two are weird.  
  
You reach back and drag a hand though Terezi’s hair; she never puts it up. It’s less of a statement than yours of course. Yours is the cause of many fights but at the end of the day no one can be fucked tackling it after you’ve been on a trip so it gets left alone. A slow smile spreads across your face, fuck you’re brilliant sometimes. You keep twisting a strand of Terezi’s hair around your finger; she nuzzles into you and scrapes her teeth along your neck, her version of a kiss when she’s not actually kissing. You distract yourself from her movements and beam fiercely at Kanaya, “You should get busy and fit a dress for Rose. Her wardrobe is shit and you’ll finally get to meet her!”  
  
The look of annoyance fades from Kanaya’s face and she rests a hand on your leg. Your smile inches wider; there’s no way she’s getting out of this. “I know your knowledge of clothing is limited to the most basic positioning of garments but surely you cannot be under the delusion that a dress at the level of which I create can be constructed in an afternoon,” Kanaya says, and continues, “I particularly cannot accomplish this when you have transformed your legs into lead. Lead is quite heavy.”  
You pull your legs back, wiping as much dirt as you can onto her skirt, and thump your feet onto the floor. She brushes the dust off. “See, wrong about that, why don’t you try and accomplish something? Like sayyyyyyyy” Kanaya looks beautifully unimpressed, “getting my kismesis a fucking dress.” You look Kanaya up and down, “Use one of your dresses, you’re about the same size as her.”  
  
Kanaya’s lips purse and you shift off of Terezi and onto the edge of the seat. Terezi doesn’t make the best cushion and, even through your skirts and her skirts, parts of her were digging in.  
  
“You’re an expert in dress sizes now. What company have you been keeping? It seems that it’s rubbing off on you and I wish to thank them. Or take away their confidence when I find out you have been misleading me.” You can tell Kanaya has caved internally, she’s got that irritated with everything but loving her work expression on, the one that makes you and Terezi want to tackle her to the floor. You settle for wiping your boot on the hem of her dress. Terezi does the same but with her crotch. You kiss Terezi’s cheek, and then her lips, she kisses back, casual as anything. What a fucking wreck.  
  
Kanaya stands up, face coloured again. She needs to get that under control already. Preferably at the same time as she stops caring that everyone in the room has their eyes fixed on the three of you. “You know where Rose’s room is. Take your things, get your ass there and get her ass presentable!”  
  
She stalks off and you and Terezi dissolve into laughter. Maybe you will be able to have some fun today.

 

***

With trepidation you raise your hand to the door. The idea that you might actually get to meet Rose Lalonde has been floating in a bubble for some time. A bubble that has grown cloudier with each new excuse as to why she’s been unavailable. At first you thought that she might be the quiet type but Terezi wiggled her way in through chance and she gossips enough about the happenings that shyness has been thoroughly disproven.  
  
You are fairly certain she doesn’t want to meet yet another fan.  
  
But you have a job that you plan to do with aplomb. You turn from the door and take a breath. Twice. A third time. Bugger. You sigh and lean against the door as you gather yourself further. One of the servants is off at your shop collecting the materials you need. Now you wish that you had gone with him to supervise, Rose can’t possibly know that you’re serious with only a small sewing bag.  
  
This day has a sense of humour and it presents itself as the wood you are resting on removing itself as Rose exits. Rather, tries to exit. She has some problems in completing the task by way of your rump being too firmly planted on top of her. Certainly a memorable first impression.  
  
You lift yourself off, you can certainly feel the heat in your cheeks, which means she will be able to see heat in your cheeks when you turn around. Maybe you won’t do that. Perhaps you will run down the hall and bury your head under the roses. It’s all the rage these days and has the added bonus of being metaphorical. Her name is also Rose.  
  
She's edged around you, with bemused concern as to your state. “Miss Maryam?” You thought you would be able to use her first name but of course that’s too forward. Drat.  
  
“Yes, Miss Lalonde. I hope I didn’t crush you too terribly I know that unexpectedly having a troll land on you can rather ruin a day. I’m afraid the impression I have given at this instant is akin to a buffoon monkey.” You think you’re rather screwing this up. “Would I be able to measure your chest?”  
  
She gapes, collects herself within seconds, and says “I suppose?” Thank goodness.  
  
Ratting in your bag you draw out your tape measure and hold it up to her. “Raising your arms would make this easier, if that is permissible, Miss Lalonde?” She begins to and then pauses, you wonder what you could have done now.  
  
“I may have a reputation for scandal but even so the place for it is behind closed doors. If I were to air it in hallways it would be far less illicit.” She steps back through into her room. It’s messier than you imagined. Even if the servants haven’t gotten to it after Vriska went through it’s messy. You never thought you’d meet a room worse than Vriska’s. Aren’t humans not meant to do that?  
  
You turn and shut the door behind you, set your bag on the floor, look at her head on, touch your hair and stumble into the most inelegant curtsy you have ever performed. Never have you wished more that Rose had taken the presence of mind to attend a single one of the events she could have. This is the worst introduction you have ever performed or even heard of someone performing. And now you have to measure her breasts. At least you were polite about asking.  
  
“I have heard you prefer purple when it comes to colours? I’m afraid I don’t have much in the shade so it will have to be a mix for the moment. And I don’t have anything available for this evening.” You busy yourself with the measuring tape. And then realise she is still in her previous clothes. All your measurements will be useless. You begin to unlace her and start again. You thought you could at least be professional when it comes to your actual profession.  
  
“I was not aware I needed to slip into the garments for immediate use, would you be terribly offended if I didn’t?” She turns so you can measure her front again, she’s smaller than you in most areas, convenient for being able to arrange a fast alteration, you think you know the one you’ll put her in. You’re not certain she will like it.  
  
She asked a question didn’t she? What the hell was it. You fuss a little more, wrapping the tape-measure around her arms, “Of course not, I can hardly expect you to wear such a hastily put together garment as this will be. However, Vriska seemed utterly convinced that you would be wearing it to the parade tonight.”  
  
Oh dear, from the way Rose frowns as you roll up the tape measure that wasn’t the right thing to say, you resign yourself to the conversation getting even more stilted. “There’s a parade I’m expected to attend?”  
  
The heap of clothing you requested arrives in time for a blessed distraction and you hastily flee to to retrieve them. You suspect you resemble a bit of a dork when you return, clothing bundled up above the top of your head. Rose attempts to take them from your arms but you neatly sidestep without falling over - an accomplishment - and deposit them onto the bed.  
  
“The twilight parade. I was under the impression Vriska had explained the reason for my appearance here though I can hardly imagine that surprise that she didn’t is warranted. That would be like saying it’s surprising when a cholerbear bites the hand that feeds it.” You hold up the grey dress you were thinking of to Rose, yes it should be manageable. “Which is to say, not at all.”  
  
She smiles slightly, you hope it’s amusement at your words and not the dress. “And I will be attending this parade on the words of my kismesis for what reason?” Your words then.  
  
“It should be a nice event. There have been many people excited about its arrival, though I dare say attending on the whim of a black partner is more troublesome. But because Vriska is” you pause, describing Vriska is always a problem, “as like Vriska as they come,” Rose lets out a huff of a breath that you might mistake for a laugh, “I think it is likely that following her wishes is more aggravating than not.”  
  
You kneel down on the floor and take a handful of pins, laying the dress in front of you. She bends beside you, pulling up her underclothes to accommodate the pull. You divert your attention back to the dress. “If this is what I am meant to be wearing I may have to agree with you on that. I don’t think I have ever worn anything quite like this, Vriska has said you design all your garments?” You flush, you hadn’t really considered that Vriska might have mentioned anything concrete about you.  
  
“Yes, other troll fashion is lagging behind the times I find. It’s easier to build from scratch when it comes to my own business.”  
  
She murmurs appreciatively and brushes her hand along the fabric. “I see.” Her knees crack, alarmingly loud, as she stands up.” She smiles at you, sweet and clever, you’ve thought about the smile behind her writing many times, you’re rather embarrassed to think it outshines the one you imagined by far. You have mentally regressed to a wriggler. “Are you attending the parade yourself, Miss Maryam?”  
  
You hadn’t spared a passing thought for making an appearance. Twilight isn’t a time of day you enjoy and celebrating it has always seemed rather redundant to you, sunshine and the warmth and life it brings to those who can stand it is much more desirable than cheering the sun recede beyond the horizon. “Of course, it’s shaping up to be positively festive.” You have since changed your mind.  
  
Rose pulls her clothes back on and you hasten to tidy and lace them up. “I look forward to seeing you there, Miss Maryam.” She whisks out the door, to wherever she was going when you so delicately fell on her. You think you hear her stomach rumble as she passes but it couldn’t have been.  


 

***

Kanaya shoved you into your nice outfit. Claiming that ‘it both makes you look revolting, suits your eyes and will match your kismesis’ dress.’ You’re looking forward to how she turns out in it. Really. You’re not as okay with your own lack of cerulean. You’re even less okay with the fact that Kanaya cleaned your fucking boots. They sparkle.  
  
When you eventually drag yourself down to the wharf, you’ve scuffed them up but it’s not the same as proper working grime. The trolls walking by must think you’re the same as every other court bred highblood. You try to change that opinion by showing your teeth when you smile. A few of the weaker willed humans back away, you ghost your mind over them to make sure you’re wedged in there for a while. You haven’t spent enough time in the city lately for them to know you on sight, changing that is always entertaining.  
  
Terezi has weaseled her way onto a float and is proving herself very entertaining. You’d almost be jealous if it wasn’t more impressive to pull eyes from the ground. Rose is intently watching her when you press up behind her, she pulls her ‘lets not allow Vriska any fun at all’ trick and lifts your hands away, you settle for winding them around her waist. She does look fucking fantastic, you can see what Kanaya meant about matching, your black and grey is striking next to her white and grey. “Kanaya is certainly something.”  
  
You shrug so she can feel it against her back. “Told you so.” Rose clears her throat, the two of you together are drawing more eyes and from the way they linger it’s not just the interspecies nature. You kiss the top of Rose’s head, twice, once on each spot where her horns would be.  
  
“You never explained what your relationship with her is.”  
  
You laugh, that didn’t take long at all. “Pale or ash; red sometimes.” You tilt around to look down at her, fuck, she’s blushing. Never thought you’d see the day.  
  
“Complications are welcome then.” She says. She’s not following Terezi’s antics on the float any more, instead staring straight ahead.  
  
You snort into her neck. “Go on a fucking date, she’s been wanting to talk about your writing for a sweep.”  
  
She hunches over enough that you can feel but not see the slump, “I was unaware kismesis were allowed to arrange other quadrants.”  
  
You fix your eyes on one particularly stupid blueblood as you scrape your teeth over Rose’s neck. She’s going to push you off soon, but for the moment the look on  his face as he turns away is worth it. “Auspistice are, Terezi’s been pushing jusssssssst as hard as I have.”  
  
Rose starts and pulls away to look at you, you match her gaze with cheer. “She’s my auspistice now?”  
  
“Right now? Fuck yes, she’s been pulling strings all day.”  
  
The fireworks from the end of the parade start shooting off and you twist Rose’s shoulder to watch them and rest your chin on her head again. “My supervisors won’t be pleased.” she mutters, totally petulant. They explode in flowers over the streets, new kinds too, you appreciate that they’ve finally worked out how to make a proper red, human parliament will have a lot to say about that. You don’t give a fuck. Rose shifts and leans back on you. She doesn’t either.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new years and a fantastic time to come. I hope you enjoyed the fic! I would like to add a quick apology for the utter lack of Terezi in this. I tried my very best but simply couldn't handle writing her with any quality. But would like to mention that had I been able to pull her off she would have been a cut throat legislacerator and lawyer tapping all the people all the ways and having a blast of a time without caring slightly about what is thought of her.
> 
> Also she was doing the macarena on the top of that tastefully pompous float. I hope you enjoy that image.


End file.
